


Solidly Off Key

by Lady_Phenyx



Series: Fluffvember 2019 [23]
Category: Mumintroll | Moomins Series - Tove Jansson, 楽しいムーミン一家 | Moomin (Anime 1990)
Genre: Don't copy to another site, Fluff and Humor, Multi, Snusmumriken | Snufkin Has Paws and a Tail, established Springtime Trio
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-23
Updated: 2019-11-23
Packaged: 2021-02-26 05:49:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,491
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21538510
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_Phenyx/pseuds/Lady_Phenyx
Summary: A band has come to play for Mrs. Fillyjonk's party, and they overheard Snufkin playing. One of them is fascinated, and is utterly oblivious to how absolutely done Snufkin is with the whole situation.Fluffvember Day 23: Hiding from someone | Debating something silly
Relationships: Mumintrollet | Moomintroll/Snorkfröken | The Snork Maiden/Snusmumriken | Snufkin, Springtime Trio
Series: Fluffvember 2019 [23]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1533602
Comments: 6
Kudos: 120





	Solidly Off Key

People of all types came through Moomin Valley at one point or another.

Snufkin was almost used to most of them putting him on some sort of pedestal – he was, apparently, somehow 'mysterious' and 'cool' and 'wise', and so some of the people passing through held him in awe.

So long as they left him alone, he didn't much care. He had Snorkmaiden and Moomin, the three of them finally talking to each other and finding the rhythm they'd been missing, and he had his sisters, his father, his adopted parents – he didn't need or want adoration.

It didn't last long when there was someone new, anyway. There was always some other reason they'd come, so they left Snufkin alone sooner or later. Preferably sooner.

He would very much appreciate it if this last one would as well.

Snufkin didn't even know who they were – they were staying at Moomin House, it seemed, and had stared at him when he'd stopped by to fetch Moomin.

He was going out with Moomin and Snorkmaiden on a walk today, the three of them, very much like they had before, only now they all knew it was a date.

Snufkin had gaven the person watching him a brief glance but was distracted by Moomin coming down the stairs and forget the whole thing after the first good morning kiss.

The trio were out in the woods, in the stargazing meadow, when it came up again.

Snufkin was sitting on a stump, working the last kinks out of a new tune. Usually he wouldn't let anyone hear while he did, but these were his partners, his loves, his Dove and Princess. They got to hear him playing about.

The two in question were leaning against the stump and Snufkin's legs, holding paws, their eyes closed and tails swaying with the soft music.

Snufkin paused to think through a bridge, waiting for the right notes to come to him, and Moomin opened his eyes.

“I just remembered,” he said, arching back so his head rested on Snufkin's leg and he could look up at the vagabond. “Snufkin, Mrs. Fillyjonk hired a band to come for the party she's holding. They got here early, and they're staying around the valley – we've got two of them at Moomin House.”

Snufkin gave a small hum. He wasn't sure if he was invited to the party in question, and honestly, the only reason to go to Mrs. Fillyjonk's parties was to see the chaos Little My would bring. The parties themselves were too stuffy and tedious to be fun, and he wondered at anyone who enjoyed them. Give him one of the Moomin parties over them any day, loud as they could get. At least he could hide in the band at those, and be sure no one was judging him for not dressing up.

At least, they wouldn't once, but Moominmamma saved a few things at Moomin House for him, things he didn't need out on the road, so he could dress up a little for the parties if he wanted. She'd just finished the prettiest green dress, too...

“Well, one of them heard you playing when he got here the other day. And he's...well, he's really amazed at what he heard. He was asking all about you.”

Snufkin made a face, making Moomin laugh. “Don't worry, Pappa didn't tell him anything that's not common knowledge. He gets it – it took awhile but he gets it now. Just because he likes people to know who he is doesn't mean you do.”

“Did Pappa tell him we're dating?” Snorkmaiden asked. “Because Blossom is very much taken.”

“No, but don't worry Snorkmaiden, I'm pretty sure it was professional interest,” Moomin said. “And we aren't exactly subtle about it anymore.”

\---XXX---

Snufkin hoped Moomin was right, he really did, but he wasn't so sure.

The musician approached him cautiously at first, with questions about the harmonica, and though Snufkin was annoyed at the attention he answered politely enough, if a bit shortly. No harm in asking about instruments and music.

Snufkin thought that might be the end of it...up until he answered honestly that most of what he played was his own compositions, with some of his father's and a few he'd picked up along his travels mixed in.

The look on the musician's face at that told Snufkin that was the Wrong Answer if he wanted any peace.

Where was the sheet music? Snufkin didn't write it down? How did he remember it all?

Snufkin shrugged, and answered honestly. They were his songs, he played and played them until he remembered them. And they weren't meant to be pinned down onto paper, they were meant to live and change as they were played. He played them by emotion, creating a new Spring Tune to celebrate his return to Moomin Valley, and he just...remembered them, and passed them to his family that way.

Again, if he wanted peace, the wrong answer, as the look the musician was giving him was no less idolizing, but if anything, was worse.

Snufkin shifted uncomfortably and tried to change the direction of the conversation. “I'm sure you've got your own songs, you're a professional, aren't you? I'm just a vagabond, there have to be others out there better at this than I am. I mean, you can surely play more than just two instruments yourself.”

“You play two? What else do you play‽” the musician demanded, leaning closer as Snufkin leaned away, tail curling in closer.

“Ah, the guitar. But mine was in an accident a few years ago, so I'm not sure you could still say that I...”

“...you can play the guitar, too? What else could you play? Do you sing? What other do you know?”

“I've, ah, played with most anything people give me and I can get sound, but it's just...I'm only...”

The musician ignored Snufkin's protests that he only fiddled with other instruments, that he was only really proficient with the harmonica, that he hadn't practiced guitar in years.

The praise continued even as Snufkin grew more and more uncomfortable.

He was too used to the people of Moomin Valley, who picked up on when he was uncomfortable. That, and they had learned to ignore it when he just got up and left, to rejoin the conversation through a window rather than continue to sit on the sofa in front of it, or other such maneuvers.

Snufkin felt frozen, unable to move, while the musician prattled on and on.

Until he snapped and slipped off the log, slipping his harmonica into his pocket.

He probably should say something, he knew, but he didn't. He got up and left while the musician was mid-sentence, slipping into the trees and disappearing.

\---XXX---

Snufkin figured that was the end of it. He didn't usually disappear mid-sentence on people anymore, and the ones he did fell into two categories: the people he considered friends and family, who understood he was overwhelmed, probably too much to vocalize, and was going to either come back when he wasn't or was going to just put a bit of space between himself and them (see: leaving the living room to rejoin the conversation through the window) or people he didn't know who had pushed him too far and now considered him irredeemably rude.

If anyone else had fallen into a third category, Snufkin hadn't seen them after he'd left – up until now.

It seemed (unfortunately) that simply getting up and leaving hadn't deterred the musician.

Instead, it seemed to have reinforced some idea he had of Snufkin being an 'artistic soul' and 'beautifully melodramatic' and...Snufkin wasn't even sure at this point, he'd just been staring at Moominpappa as all this was recited to him as if it were somehow a good thing.

Moominpappa faltered when Snufkin continued to simply stare, a few things clicking into place. “And...oh...you wouldn't like this, would you? I like the attention, but you...ah, I'm sorry Snufkin, I forgot again.”

“At least I'm warned now, I suppose,” Snufkin said, trying to downplay it.

“I can tell him to back off,” Moominpappa offered. “Of course, with some of these artistic types, that can only encourage them, with the romance of it all, but I can try.”

Snufkin was already shaking his head. “No, it's...it's all right. He seems the type to...”

Moominpappa nodded when Snufkin trailed off. “Well, if he comes on too strong, you let me know. You can take care of yourself, I'm sure, and once you get annoyed enough and it's clear he hasn't a chance he'll hopefully leave you alone. But if he doesn't, you've got people on your side now.”

Snufkin hid his wince and just hoped Moominpappa was right.

\---XXX---

Snufkin knew he should be patient. Snufkin knew he was thought of as the cool one, the calm one, the patient one.

Snufkin didn't care much for social norms, and Snufkin was irritated through and through.

Screw being the patient one.

He'd been trailed every time he left his tent for the last three days, with the musician asking his opinion on this bit of music or this musical theory, about how he made the switch between harmonica and guitar, offering to bring him a guitar (a tempting offer, but given everything else, Snufkin was fairly sure it would be a gift with strings attached, and a guitar unsuitable for a life on the road such as his – fancy guitars didn't last long or were stolen, he needed a plain, practical, and above all sturdy instrument).

So he was getting a little...short.

“What do you think of this guitar?” the musician asked, sitting down next to where Snufkin was trying to show Ninny how to fish, the two of them sitting in comfortable silence on the riverbank.

Snufkin glanced at it briefly. “It's very nice,” he said flatly. It was worse than he'd thought it would be, but as a decorative piece, rather pretty, he supposed. “Can it even play with all that decoration on it?”

The musician pulled it closer defensively. “Of...of course it can,” he said, glancing down at it. It did have quite a lot of fancy additions to it...he rallied and said, “You're so lovely, you deserve an instrument as beautiful as you are.”

Snufkin didn't answer at first as Ninny glanced between them, eyes narrowing in a glare as she realized this was the person her big brother had been complaining (in his own way) about to their big sister.

“I'm sure that's a nice sentiment, but no thank you,” Snufkin said evenly.

They both waited, but Snufkin didn't seem inclined to say more.

“Um...you don't...want it?” the musician asked. “But you play guitar, and yours is gone, and it's a new one! I was hoping you'd play something!”

“One that would get stolen in a week,” Snufkin said flatly, “or would get destroyed with the way I travel. Your shadow is scaring the fish away.”

The musician gaped at him for a moment, looking down at the guitar in his hand and back at Snufkin before leaving, looking down at the guitar in confusion – but also obviously thinking about what Snufkin had said.

“...do you know how to play a guitar?” Ninny asked once he was gone.

Snufkin gave a small affirming noise, the fluffy tail he'd recently required (as it had been invisible for years, until last spring, as he was welcomed home, and wasn't _that_ an interesting homecoming, to both come to certain realizations about how he felt about this home port he'd found and to suddenly have a tail showing everyone just how he felt about that) twitching around to wrap around Ninny's waist in the mumrik half hug Joxter had taught him and that Ninny was particularly fond of.

“It had an accident awhile back, but I meant it – that guitar was too fancy for me.”

“It's like he doesn't know you at all – oh wait, he doesn't,” Ninny said.

Snufkin chuckled and ruffled her hair, and they went back to fishing.

\---XXX---

Moomin, Snorkmaiden, and Snufkin were sitting in the meadow once again.

Moomin had his back to the stump, with Snorkmaiden leaning against his shoulder. Snufkin had his head in Moomin's lap, and Snorkmaiden her head against Moomin's shoulder. Snorkmaiden's paw was running through Snufkin's hair, playing with it idly, loving the feel of the soft strands against her pads, while Moomin was wearing Snufkin's hat.

Snufkin was idly playing on his harmonica, feeling out a song for sitting in a summer meadow with the people you love, that feeling of peace that came with lying in someone's lap while someone else played with your hair.

“You know, there's more red in your hair lately,” Snorkmaiden said softly, ruffling it. “Maybe because of the sun. And it's getting longer. You look more like Mymble and Little My's brother this way. It's so pretty, I love your hair.”

Snufkin opened a lazy eye to smile up at her, still playing, his tail giving away just how happy he was, as it had a distressing tendency to do.

Moomin let out a little huff. “What's he doing here?”

They glanced over in the direction Moomin was staring to see the musician attempting to hide in the forest, papers in hand.

“He doesn't have another guitar with him, does he?” asked Snufkin, who couldn't see as well while lying down and didn't want to get up yet. “I swear, it's a step forward and two back with him.”

“Ah, no, just some papers. It looks like he trying to write something down.”

Snufkin's eyes narrowed, and he sat up abruptly. “Oh are you _kidding_ me,” he grumbled, tail thrashing as he stormed over to where the musician was hiding.

Seeing he'd been spotted, the musician came out of hiding, holding the sheets of paper close but not looking nearly abashed enough for Snufkin.

“Why are you spying on us? We're on a _date_ ,” Snufkin snapped.

The musician blinked a few times. “Which of you...?” he began, glancing over at Moomin and Snorkmaiden.

“All three of us!”

His eyes widened, and the musician looked over at Moomin and Snorkmaiden with new respect. Snufkin sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, his tail now only lightly flicking, setting the ribbons tied to it dancing. “Why were you spying on us?”

The musician lit up. “Oh, you said you never bothered to write down what you composed, so I was doing it for you! To be helpful to you! And then, when you travel with us, we'll all be able to play with you!”

“Well, thank you _so much_ for asking my opinion on the whole thing,” Snufkin drawled, paws on hips and tail thrashing once again. “I just _love_ having choices taken out of my paws.”

“You...do?”

“Of course not!”

“I'll...tell the others you need to think it over,” the musician said. “You'll love it! And it pays well, you'd be able to discard your old clothes for some new ones, ones that are appropriate for someone of your skills and looks! I'm going to go transpose these notes properly, and see if the other two can come along too,” he said, backing away and hurrying off.

“Are you going to travel with them?” Moomin asked after a long moment.

“No, he's just assuming things.” Slowly Snufkin's tail slowed, and he jumped as he felt a paw on it.

Snorkmaiden held his tail, glancing up at him apologetically when she realized she'd startled him, and started stroking his tail, smoothing the fur.

“I'm still amazed each time I see this,” she said. “It hurts to think how long it was invisible.”

“Princess...” Snufkin said, realizing she was trying to change the subject.

Snorkmaiden raised his tail to press a kiss to it and giggled as Snufkin went bright red, all thoughts coming to a screeching halt.

He shook his head, eyes narrowing.

Snorkmaiden and Moomin both giggled and ran as Snufkin crouched, pouncing on Snorkmaiden, and the musician was forgotten in favor of play chasing each other around the meadow, with kisses and finally collapsing into a pile of gentle cuddles as the rewards for being caught.

\---XXX---

Snufkin lay on the veranda roof with Little My, peering down at the musicians.

He'd just finished telling her how the musician had been writing down what he'd been playing the other day.

“...it feels...wrong,” he said, resting his chin on his paws. “To have someone out there with a copy of my song. He didn't even ask, he just assumed I'd want it written down. I mean, I can't stop someone from remembering it, but to have it pinned down like that...”

He sighed, his tail flicking, as Little My sprawled beside him and watched.

“Violating?” she asked.

“That's the word,” Snufkin agreed after thinking a moment.

“All right...” Little My scowled down at the musician before nodding to herself. Before Snufkin could ask what she was thinking she scrambled to her feet, sliding down the drain pipe as she'd seen Moomin do a hundred times before.

She meandered over to the musician. “So, I hear you've been writing down my brother's music,” she said. “Even though he doesn't want to yet.”

He lit up. “Oh, yes! It's wonderful, it needs written down so it's not forgotten! Would you like to see?”

“Sure I would!” Little My said. “How'd you pin his songs down onto paper? What are all those little black marks?”

The musician started explaining with enthusiasm. Little My nodded, watching as he pulled out sheet after sheet.

“Is this all of it?” she asked when he stopped.

“Oh yes, all I've gotten so far. But I'm sure your brother knows so much more, I can't wait to...hey, what are you doing!”

Little My snatched up the papers and set off at full speed.

She cackled as she ran, getting a large head start as the musician scrambled to his feet.

On the veranda roof, Snufkin muffled his laughter in his tail as Little My led the musician on a merry chase.

He'd feel bad about it, except, well...he'd said he didn't want to write his music down, and the musician had done it anyway, without asking. Which was the main problem with the whole thing.

Maybe someday, if someone asked, he would, but for now, he was going to enjoy his big sister being the absolute gremlin she was.

\---XXX---

If Snufkin had thought that would be the last straw for the musician, he was wrong.

It was getting worse.

Moominpappa had found an old guitar, still sound but battered enough Snufkin felt comfortable accepting it, and that made things that much worse than they'd already been getting. Snufkin knew he should have refused it until the musicians were gone, but for once, temptation had been too strong.

Despite Snufkin getting sassier and sharper with him, the musician continued to try and hang around him.

Which Snufkin would have appreciated and backed down on, accepting the magician into the friend group, if he hadn't kept pushing it.

Trying to convince Snufkin that he was coming with them when they left, not giving him a choice in it or accepting that Snufkin traveled alone, sure that he could change Snufkin's mind.

Trying to kiss Snufkin's paw, or trying to hold it, refusing to let go when Snufkin pulled away and complaining when he got clawed as a result. (At least he stopped after he was clawed, giving Snufkin some hope he might get a clue yet.)

Trying to monopolize Snufkin's attention.

Catching Snufkin while he was fishing to serenade him under the guise of 'sharing music for his professional opinion', ruining the fishing and Snufkin's peace of mind.

Snufkin was starting to wish his dad would hurry up and arrive – he was a week late, probably delayed at Mymblemamma's, but he had a feeling his dad would distract the musician better than Snufkin could.

So when he saw the musician coming towards him once more, Snufkin took the route of the introvert pushed to his limit and ran.

He passed Moomin as he hit the dirt, sliding down under the veranda.

Moomin crouched, looking under, to where Snufkin's eyes caught the light, reflecting back at him.

“Snufkin, what are you doing under there?” he asked, genuinely confused.

“ _Hiding.”_

“What, from...I thought you were starting to like him?”

“If I did, then why would I be hiding? Get under here before he sees you!” Snufkin demanded. Moomin hesitated and found himself yanked under.

Snufkin's paw clamped over his mouth, and they both watched as the musician's feet came into view. He paused in front of the veranda, his feet turning this way and that as they held their breath.

Moomin sucked in a breath, and Snufkin glanced to him.

Meeting Snufkin's eyes, Moomin pointed, and Snufkin froze.

His hat had fallen off during the slide, partially under the veranda and partially still in the sunlight.

It was picked up, and they waited, not daring to move, hearing the musician say something, muffled by veranda and the low tone of voice, before wandering off.

They both let out their breath slowly.

“Snufkin?” Moomin whispered.

“Why did you think I liked him?” Snufkin whispered back. “After that day in the meadow? And how he's been bothering me?”

Moomin shrugged, playing with the grass, drawing little patterns in it. “Well, it's just, he could talk to you about music, and Snorkmaiden and I like listening to you, but we don't really know enough about it to talk about it with you. Not the way a musician could.”

Snufkin reached for Moomin's paw, pulling it close and pressing a kiss to the back. “Dove, it might have been nice to talk music with him, but he was pushing himself on me. Until, well, until I was willing to hide under the veranda to get away. There's no need to be jealous – I love you, and Snorkmaiden. I choose the two of you. And I don't hide from you,” he added with a wink.

Moomin flushed. Hearing the words still made his heart skip a beat. “I want you to have other friends, so I didn't want to say anything.”

Snufkin shrugged. “Well, maybe he'll get some sense knocked into him and quit trying to say I'm coming with them and insisting I write down my songs and we could be. But sometimes I just want to play, not have it all analyzed until it's not music anymore. And maybe someday I'll write it down, but it's not something I want, and he needs to back off.”

Moomin made a soft sound of understanding, glancing out from under the veranda. “How long do you think we should hide under here?”

Snufkin shrugged.

\---XXX---

The two of them had been under the veranda for awhile now. Neither was quite sure or really cared to figure out just how long it had been.

Snufkin had rolled over onto his back, staring at the boards overhead, while Moomin played with Snufkin's paw, pressing on the small pads to see his claws extend and retract.

After learning how long Snufkin's paws had been invisible and seeing them for the first time, they still fascinated Moomin.

“Why don't claws make a sound when they extend?” he asked idly. “Seems like they should. Like, _shink._ ”

“ _Shink_?” Snufkin echoed.

“Yeah.”

“Why not _swching_?”

Moomin giggled. Feet appeared at the edge of the veranda, Little My's boots beside Snorkmaiden's ankleted leg, and Little My looked under the veranda.

“There you are!” she announced.

Snorkmaiden bent to look under with her. “What are you doing under there?”

“Either get under here or pretend you never saw us,” Snufkin said, arching until he looked at them upside down.

They blinked at him in confusion, not moving. “Hurry!”

With that, they scurried underneath, though Snorkmaiden winced away from the dirt and dust.

“What are you doing under here?” she repeated, quieter now.

“Hiding,” Moomin said, as if it were obvious. “From the musician. Oh, and debating what sort of noise claws should make.”

Snufkin explained properly why they were hiding before Little My narrowed her eyes. “They should go _schchhewwt_.”

“Do you think we could paint them?” Snorkmaiden whispered. “I mean, they retract.”

“If I don't retract them before it's dry, maybe?”

“But they still retract. Wouldn't that get paint in bad places?”

“Did you ever scratch yourself with those before you could see them?” Little My asked. “What if you got those little caps they put on cat claws?”

“How would I have put them on if I couldn't see the claws?” Snufkin asked reasonably.

“So you did get yourself before you could see them,” Little My gloated.

Snufkin rolled his eyes and didn't respond to that.

Snorkmaiden took Snufkin's other paw, pressing gently. Snufkin giggled. “It tickles when you both do it off rhythm like that,” he said.

The other's eyes lit up. “You're ticklish?”

“I didn't say that, I said that tickled.”

“...why do they tickle when we do them out of rhythm? What if we did them the same?”

Snufkin shrugged.

Meanwhile, Little My crept closer.

“Your dad keeps scratching on things inside the house,” Moomin said with a frown.

“Well that's how to sharpen them and get the old sheaths off,” Snufkin said idly. “He's only doing it there because it bothers Moominpappa.”

“I'd do it if I had claws!” Little My laughed. She grabbed for her brother, aiming for under his smock, fingers already wiggling.

Snufkin let out a surprised shriek as those fingers dug into his sides, throwing up dirt as he tried to squirm away.

Unnoticed, feet stopped outside the veranda, and a face dropped down to look, attracted by the noise.

“...what are you doing under there?” the musician asked in honest bewilderment.

The foursome froze.

Then Little My shouted, “Scatter!” and they shot out from under the veranda, laughing and shrieking and running at full speed.

The musician sat back on his heels, watching them run. “...You know...I'm starting to think he might not like me."

Moominpappa coughed into his hand. “Ah, come up here and let me explain a few things to you...”

\---XXX---

After his little talk with Moominpappa, the musician backed off. Enough so that he and Snufkin could have a few talks before he left, the first one including the most sincere apology Snufkin had heard in some time, and Snufkin didn't feel the need to hide under any more verandas when he saw the musician return the next year.

And with Joxter there, well, it was nice in the end to talk music with someone.

Once in awhile.

But even with Joxter's help, they never did decide just what sound claws should make.


End file.
